He Kills at Parties
by Dinas Emrys
Summary: Career criminal and alleged sociopath Roman Torchwick arranges the stage for a meeting with the city's resident Vigilante. Done for the RWBY Relationship week. Sephora pairing. Complete and utter crack.


Disclaimer: RWBY is the property of Roosterteeth and the creation of Monty Oum.

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**He Kills at Parties**

Darkness was cast over the city, as much from the late hour as the man currently causing power outages across the residential district. Chuckling quietly, he twirled his cane around his wrist, running his thumb over the buttons of the remote in his other hand. Everything had been set in motion, everything arranged for the precise conditions he would need to arrange an appearance from the-

Without so much as a whisper, a shadow vaulted over the lip of the roof, gold eyes glinting behind the black domino mask she wore. Her footsteps were nearly silent, even on the concrete rooftop, and she moved with a grace that belied her feline heritage.

"Torchwick," the Cat spat as she stalked towards the career criminal, her ribbons at the ready.

At the sound of his name, the redhead's head popped up, turning to face the local vigilante with a smile.

"Is that a little kitty I hear scampering across the rooftops?"

Apparently, the self-appointed protector of Vale City wasn't in a mood for humor. Pistol drawn, she levelled the barrel at his chest, her finger already on the trigger. Not that he was worried. Everyone knew the Cat only used rubber bullets; they might bruise, but unless he took a shot of two to the head they were effectively non-lethal. It was a little vanilla, honestly, a little too tame for the woman who he'd made it his life's mission to harass. If he could _just_ get her to take that step over the edge, to _enjoy _killing, just once …. Well. It was a project for another time.

"Ah-ah-ah," he called as she neared, ticking his index finger back and forth. "You wouldn't want to be hasty and do something you'd regret."

Raising his other hand, he opened his palm just enough for the masked woman to see the remote, his thumb already poised above the big red button.

"It's time to play: Pick! That! Victim!" he drawled, a low, sarcastic imitation of a cheesy game show host. "And our first guest, the Vale City Cat herself. Come on down!"

Out of what he could tell was pure distilled spite, the woman in black just stared blankly at him, stock-still as her eyes locked solidly on the remote in his hand.

"For our game, Kitten, you have a choice." Raising the remote, he pointed it at one of the television screens sitting behind him. "Inside bus number one, currently dangling off the edge of the sixth street bridge, is – drumroll please!" He punched one of the smaller buttons and a pre-recorded snare rolled the anticipation, the screen lighting up to show a particularly precariously perched bus. "A bus full of orphans!"

Canned applause echoed over the rooftop, speakers resounding with the fictitious audience's amusement. That was fine for Torchwick. So long as the Cat was there, all self-righteous and angry and angsty, it was audience enough for this.

"And behind door number two … a bus full of children whose living parents truly love them!" The second video screen clicked on, showing a similarly dangling buss filled with school-age children. Free hand cupping around his mouth, he leaned a little towards the vigilante, whispering sotto voce. "Don't worry, I checked. They all have excellent home situations."

"Torchwick, you clichéd son of a-"

"Language! Can't have the chilluns hearing something like that," Roman chided, punching the mute button on the remote, and looking almost surprised when it didn't work. "Now, kitty cat, you have a decision to make. Orphans or … not the orphans. That is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the death and bombs of-"

"Torchwick!"

"Right, rambling. My apologies. Of course, you could always take the third option."

"Punch you out and have my partners save both?"

"What? Heavens no. Then the timer would set the bombs off, and you'd get regular people parts mixed in with your orphans. Ugh." He smirked, watching the hackles rising on the back of her neck. "Worst candy idea ever. No, Kitten. Option three is you take some much needed time off. Look at you, you're a mess! Your eyeshadow's smudged, and your mascara's coming off. Disgraceful."

"Excuse me?"

"What you need is a night out. And who better to show you a good time than Vale's most eligible psychopath?"

"… you want a date?"

"In a word? Yes. Oui. Ja. Da. Si. Ha-"

The Cat cut him off with a glare, golden eyes narrowing to slits behind her mask. "Is it too late to just choose the orphans?"

Torchwick rolled his eyes. Trust his little kitty cat to be stubborn. "Come now, kitten. Surely the lives of … twenty? I think it was twenty. Twenty children are worth a few hours with little old me."

The city's protector was quiet for a long moment, her jaw set and tight as she fumed, eyes flickering between the buses on the screen.

"Fine," she finally hissed through her teeth, her arms going limp at her sides.

"Excellent choice, my dear." Satisfied with her promise, his fingers flicked across the buttons, punching them in the combination that would deactivate both sets of explosives. "There we go. No more bombs. Now, I was thinking we go for Italia-"

In hindsight, he probably should have expected the gloved knuckles that slammed into his face as he turned back to the vigilante. The second blow caught him in the jaw, and the lawbreaker went down, little white lights swimming before his eyes. Blinking to clear them, he felt the Cat wrench his wrists behind his back, one of her familiar zip ties being tightened around his hands.

"Oh come on, kitty. I don't do bondage before the third date!"

If anything, she cinched the ties tighter, plastic rings cutting into his skin as she hauled him bodily to his feet. "I'll make sure to bring some fettuccini to your arraignment."

"Bah. Give me a week. I should be able to free my schedule."

The best part was, she knew he was right. There wasn't a prison on earth he couldn't escape from. Nowhere she could lock him away that he couldn't slip free.

Didn't mean she wouldn't try.

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**Writer's Note: **So, here's my second entry for RWBY relationship week. It's ... well, it was intended as complete crack for the Sephora trash ship, so ... Well, I'm not completely happy with it, but here it is. Tomorrow's assigned 'ship' is Ozpin &amp; Ozpin, so ... yeah.


End file.
